


Far Longer

by ChipsandChicken



Category: Swan Princess (1994)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood, Early Days, F/M, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7751530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipsandChicken/pseuds/ChipsandChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots chronicling the years, firsts, and growing relationship between Derek and Odette, up to and after the final film. Rating may change as the story goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odette happens upon her mother in the palace graveyard and wonders why nobody ever talks about her.

**Finding Mother**

_age 4_

 

The trees were bare. Little feet crushed the leaves beneath satin-slippered soles, the only sound in the vast forest apart from distant shouts of panic. The little creature stopped for a moment, listening gleefully for the distant sounds of her caretakers as they shouted to one another frantically. “Did you check the nursery?”

“Of _course_ I checked the nursery!”

“Well check it again before we lose our heads!”

The creature, a small blonde child in a thin white nightgown, much too thin for this chilly weather, giggled at their panic. What fun this was. They would laugh when they found her, and they’d see how fun this game was. Satisfied that they were headed back to the castle, the little girl turned on her slippered heel and tottered off between the trees, not looking for anything in particular. The forest around her was largely silent, the only sound the thumping of her feet and the ever-more-distant shouts of her attendants. She hadn’t intended to sneak _out_ of the castle-- she’d been following some birds that had been in the corridor outside her rooms. It was really their own faults for leaving the window open, especially on a day so clear and blue as this one. The early winter chill was just starting to set in, and the leaves and grass crunched underneath her tiny feet as she staggered off deeper into the woods, aimlessly wandering.

A small red fox ran across her path and she squealed, partly in fear and partly in delight, taking off madly after it as quickly as her fat little legs could take her, heavy locket thumping rhythmically on her little chest as she went. Unfortunately, this was not very fast, and she soon lost sight of the little creature, finally drawn to a halt when her feet gave out and she toppled to the ground.

Little pricks of pain scattered through her knees and hands, but the keening wails that began to sound from her, almost unconsciously, were brought on mostly from the sight of so much dirt on her clean white nightgown. Her face screwed up, large violet eyes filling and reddening with tears, and she suddenly wished that the nursery people were here. The nursery people always kissed her knees when she toppled over like this, and especially loved holding her when she cried, so where were they? The child glanced around as she wailed, but after a time, the silence and absence of her beloved nursery friends convinced her that no one was coming.

Her cries stopped almost immediately upon this realization, and the little girl took in her changed surroundings. She was closer now to the Castle-- there were its spires, reaching high above the trees. In there was her nursery, and her nursery people.

But here there were odd little stools everywhere, most about as tall as she was, with little words written into them. The girl recognized these words from other places, like just under the royal seal, and on all those papers that father liked to look at so intently, but alas could not yet decipher their meaning. This one over here, though, this one had a crown! It was large and long, taller than she was by far, but atop it there lay a woman made out of stone, her hands crossed regally over her belly and her eyes closed as she slept motionlessly atop the slab. She had a crown on her lap, just below her fingers, one that looked just like the portrait of mother that was kept in her nursery. The nursery people liked to talk about her to the girl, to tell her about Mother and what Mother was and did and was like. She was father’s wife, whatever that meant, and she died when Odette-- that was her, she was fairly sure-- had been born. A few of the nursery people would tear up at this part of the story, and it always ended in Odette getting at least one hug from everyone involved, which was always alright by her.

This must have been her then. Odette wondered why the nursery people were always crying about how “gone” Mother was, when she was laying out here in the open for everyone to see atop this weird table. Granted, she was all grey now, and maybe that was why nobody came to see her or wake her up anymore.

Odette teetered over to the edge of the stone slab, scrabbling up the side with the help of strong fingers and a toppled tree stump, pulling herself as close as she could to the Mother’s grey face. It was cold when her little fingers touched it, and she frowned, drawing her hand away. Mother didn’t move, not the way father did when Odette poked _his_ face in the mornings. The stone was cool and solid, like the walls of the castle, and, uneasy, Odette drew away from the face, turning her focus to the hands. She experimented with her own little fingers for a time, attempting fruitlessly to cross them together as gracefully as Mother’s were, but her fingers were too short and thick to do anything so pretty with.

And through all this, Mother slept on.

The uneasiness in her stomach grew, until it was a cramp stabbing at her heart and causing a pain that she could not yet understand. This was Mother-- she recognized her from the painting, for sure-- but Mother was not _here_ , and though Odette had no sense whatever about who or what Mother was to her, the pain of knowing that Mother was here and not here was more than she could bear. The tears that came now seemed to have no end, and she curled up on Mother’s lap, cheek pressed against the stone of the crown below her fingertips, sobbing as loudly as she could manage. It was senseless, the noise and the sadness, and when the nursery people finally came, shouting out when they followed her din to the little yard of stumps, they pried her away from Mother and wrapped her up in warm, soft arms.

She never went back to the little place full of stumps, the Gray Yard or whatever it was that the nursery people called it, but late at night, when her friends were gone and only the little lantern in the corner was awake besides her, she would fold her fingers together, and wonder why it could possibly hurt so much to miss someone who she had never, and would never know.

 

That night, and for many nights after, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling of the nursery, Odette thought about Mother.


	2. A Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odette assumes that the young prince will be handsome and bold. Derek assumes she will be adoring and demure. Both have done their research.

**A Given**

****_ages 6 and 7_

 

Odette smoothed her soft pink dress down anxiously, eyes scanning the lines of the book before her with a mix of eagerness and fear. The pages danced with drawings of strong-jawed men staring somberly at their conquests: dragons, wargs, wolves, and all manner of frightening creatures. _A Prince_ , said the flowery caption, _is a hero among men._ Odette nodded sagely, running her fingertips gently over the severe jaw of the curly haired blond man in the drawing before her, admiring the cut of it. Carefully, she closed her reader and moved on to the next book, wherein a group of princely men were out on the hunt, nobly pursuing a dragon who had lain waste to their homes. _A Prince defends his Kingdom, and as a Knight, above all, honors his Lady_. That would be her. She was one of those ladies in the storybook, staring out the window at the men riding off to defend her honor and kingdom. Well, sort of like them, anyway. It would be enough, she knew, for any gallant knight of the realm. She snuggled into the chaise aboard the ship, too absorbed in her reading to hear her father call for her.

Derek sat in his room, breathing steadily, but with great effort. She was coming. Today, she was coming today. His princess, his future wife, was, as he sat there, on her way across the sea and from the port. His gaze flew to the door, where the maids stood tittering on the other side, and he crossed to it as silently as he could. _“-bet she’s a proper little thing, the princess_ ” said one, and a chorus of coos and giggles sounded. Derek rolled his eyes, but felt his fears slipping away. A proper princess. He knew from conversations with the staff and his mother what she would be like if she was proper: she would smile, and be very pretty, and also be nice to him. And she’d be quiet-- that was paramount. A lady always let her lord speak first. That was good enough, he thought, to get them on their way to being married. _“-- she’ll just_ adore _the prince!”_ said another maid, as they finished whatever task had brought them and moved off down the hall. Derek grinned, entirely comforted. Yes, that sounded right. She would adore him. He didn’t have to be polite or stuffy, or pretend that he was particularly happy to see her, because her whole job in life was to adore him. Satisfied, he flopped back down onto his bed and waited to be fetched by his mother.

In the moments before the trees cleared the woods, the last seconds before she met her future husband, Odette had to remind herself to stay seated nicely, mounted on the horse at her father’s lap. He held the reigns tightly, and Odette felt sorry for him. She knew father worried so, but he needn’t have in this case. Very soon, Odette would meet her handsome, daring, caring husband to be, and all would be right with the world.

The sound of hooves wasn’t far. Derek lingered behind his mother’s skirts as the, frankly useless, manservant attempted to trumpet a warning that the visiting royals were coming. He wondered briefly if he ought not come out in front to meet her, but the closer the hooves got, the less he felt like meeting some formidable force of homemaking nature. His mother had impressed upon him the importance of kissing her hand and bowing to her, and now he was getting the sneaking suspicion that nobody expected the new princess to bend the knee to him at all.

  
But whatever happened, both thought privately as the woods began to clear and the trumpet sounded, it couldn’t be _too_ bad. After all, they’d done their research.


	3. Every Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Age 7: Derek searches through every book in the library trying to find a way out.

    There had to be one somewhere. There were books on religious law, practical law, _practicing_ law, there were even books on forbidden magical law-- but so far, no books on breaking them. Derek supposed he shouldn’t have been too surprised; who wants to write a manual on how to effectively break laws? That would pretty much ensure that the writer would be arrested. Huffing impatiently, he snapped shut a book called _Fighting the Laws of Nature_ , which had not been at _all_ what he had wanted.

    Mother was off somewhere in the castle as he pored over book after book, gadding about and talking incessantly about her new best friend, stupid little Princess Whatsherface. At the thought of her, Derek shoved the books off the desk, flopping his head down on the surface. She was so _annoying_ \-- he couldn’t for the life of him understand why Mother was so fond of her. Then again, Mother was pretty annoying too. Maybe it was a girl thing. Maybe when she grew up she would be just like Mother, and then that would be terrible. It didn’t even bear thinking about. Just the thought of all the parties and shouting and twirling about that would happen was enough to make Derek’s stomach turn. But still, he did love his mother. She read to him a lot, even though she didn’t have much time. She always found time to come in at the end of the day, even if he was mostly asleep, and run her fingers across his forehead, humming quietly and soothing him into sleep. He guessed that those things wouldn’t be too bad, if Odette did stuff like that.

    He remembered her face, screwed up in disgust when he kissed her hand, as though he’d disappointed her, and something heavy and sharp settled in his throat. To be fair to her, he was pretty sure spitting in disgust afterwards hadn’t exactly helped the situation. But then again, it was _her_ stupid fault that they were in this mess to begin with! If she hadn’t been a girl, they wouldn’t be engaged, and then he’d be free to spend his summers making actual friends with the other children of the court, who were largely kept away from him so that he and Princess Whatsherface could have “bonding time”. Whatever that meant.

    Sighing, he clambored back  up onto the table, reaching for a book titled _An Intro To Marriage Law: Understanding Rights and Responsibilities,_ promising himself that after this one inevitably turned up nothing useful, he’d go back to his room and play.

 

~

 

    Uberta stole into the library quietly, scanning the aisles of books, noting that it looked distinctly more like a tornado had torn through the stacks than usual. Not that anyone ever bothered to put the books away anyways. Following the trail of discarded tomes, her eyes finally alighted on her son and heir, illuminated by dying lamplight in the darkened library. He was fast asleep, face lying on an open book and mouth hanging wide open, and Uberta crept closer, her hands fluttering out to brush the hair back from his face. It always seemed to be _just_ too long to keep from being all over his forehead, no matter how much she complained to the haircutter. Still, she thought, he _was_ a handsome boy, not terribly unlike his father. He would have no trouble attracting plenty of attention when he grew up. At that, Uberta remembered Odette, and how soundly the little princess had trounced him all around the castle grounds this past summer, the first of their official, binding engagement. She quickly stifled her chuckle, and directed her attention back at the young boy sleeping before her.

    Sighing a little, she made a note to have one of the stronger manservants come and collect him and bring him to bed, turning to leave. As she turned, her eyes fell on the title of the chapter Derek slept upon, and a bark of laughter broke free before she could stop it. She shook her head fondly, picking her way back through the mess of books and closing the door behind her on the sleeping prince. She could only hope that as he grew up, Derek would have the good sense to at least _like_ the precocious Odette. _It really could have been much worse,_ she reasoned to herself, humming a little as she walked through the quiet halls, _the girl could have been a simpering moron._ As it was, she was clever and lively and strong-minded, excellent qualities for a Queen, and, she suspected, exactly the sort of thing which would make her the best person to whip her darling boy into shape when the time came.

 

    Back in the library, Derek wrinkled his nose, a little line of drool starting to pool on the page, whose heading read, _Out Of The Way, or, Coping With A Headstrong Bride._ It had been particularly useless, advising Derek to remember not to bow to his “strong minded” fiancee, but also not to fight her too much, lest she feel the need to find other ways to take her power. His nose wrinkled again and he huffed a little in his sleep, the darkness of the library settling in around him. One thing was for certain: there were thousands of books in this library, and at least _one_ of them would help him. And he would find it, learn the library inside and out if he had to, however long it took.

 


	4. Getting Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Age 7: Odette hates Derek. Odette wants to beat Derek. In order to beat him, she gets good at everything.

    Odette threw the cards down impatiently, scowling at the rotten hand she’d drawn _again_ . The calendar on the cold stone wall of her chambers read that it was still October, just like it had been when she’d sat down to master cards, but it felt as though summer was right around the corner. The way her father and governesses went on, you’d think it _was_ . “Stay inside, your majesty. You wouldn’t want to get dark before you see your betrothed.” Odette’s frown deepened. “Sit straight, child. You wouldn’t want the prince to think you were improper.” Her arms seemed like they were constantly crossed now. They might be stuck that way. “Don’t sing in the halls, my lady. Nobody likes a showoff.” Oh no, that would be a _tragedy_ . A national crisis. The most spoilt little garbagemuncher on the planet thought she was undesirable, what a _crying shame_ . Although, she reminded herself sharply, it may very well _be_ a national crisis if her marriage fell through. She’d been promised for so long that all the other royals had already been auctioned off to one another, and there was very little chance of any of _those_ arrangements failing. Three kingdoms over, Princess Amelie, who was her age, was deep and devoted friends with her betrothed, Prince Francis. Granted, Prince Francis was considerably _less_ obnoxious than Odette’s self-important fiancee, but he was also almost seven years older than Amelie. At least Prince Fathead was only a couple years older than Odette, so he wouldn’t be old and wrinkly when they were made to marry.

    King William was determined that their summer visits would continue, and even though Odette sometimes considered throwing herself from a tower and breaking something to get out of it, she never could quite manage to allow her father to be so disappointed in her. _“My daughter will be the beautiful Queen of two rich lands one day soon”_ was a fairly common boast given forth by the elderly King, even though Odette was barely older than seven years old and marriage was still a good six or seven years off for her at the _least_.

    Groaning as her frustration slowly drained away at the thought of her doting father, Odette dropped her head to the wood of the desk in her bedroom’s corner, dully noting the muffled _thunk_ as her forehead gently smacked the lacquered wood. She didn’t _want_ to marry him. She didn’t want to marry _anyone_. It wasn’t fair.

    Tears sprang to her eyes, stinging as they threatened to spill out over her bottom lashes and onto the lacquered wood. Of course it wasn’t fair. She hadn’t _asked_ to be born a princess, just like she had never even _agreed_ to be married to Prince Jerkface. Everything was decided for her, and the only control she had was what little she could steal: slouching and getting tanned and singing in every hallways she could find included. Her eyes scrunched shut, and she felt the beginnings of a fairly decent self-pitying Cry starting up before she remembered why she was here, banging her head against a desk and scowling at playing cards; Prince Dummy was good at cards. He was good at _everything._ Odette’s eyes flew open and she sat up straight, glaring at the stone wall across from her as she went through a mental inventory of things her sordid fiancee excelled in. Archery, sparring, horse riding, cards, and there was even a rumor that he was well-read, spending hours and hours poring over _legal_ books of all things, although that wasn’t _so_ important in a young prince from a self-sustainable kingdom. Odette, of course, had never been allowed near a bow, nor a sparring stick, and horse riding was strictly limited to travel only, not recreation and certainly not done straddling the horse like the gentlemen did. She liked reading well enough, but she was almost never allowed to burn the midnight oil on it, and definitely not in reading books about _law_.

    That left cards.

    Her violet eyes drifted down and fixed hatefully upon the little pieces of paper, taking in the little numbers and extravagant illustrations etched into the thick paper. Her father had been utterly perplexed when she’d requested them two months ago upon her return from her fiance’s charming company. “But child,” he’d said, in that continually befuddled way of his, “What do you need cards for? You have so many lovely toys and books, what could you possibly need playing cards for?” Odette had looked him square in the eye and said, “Prince Derek enjoys playing cards.” Immediately the cards had been sent for, her father fluttering about like a daydreaming maiden at the thought of his precious daughter _finally_ coming around to marrying Prince Stupidhead. She had smiled, congratulating herself on her tactful response. Yes, Prince Doofus enjoyed playing cards.

    Which was precisely why she was going to get exceptionally good at them, so that when the time came, she could take that power which her station and sex afforded.

    So that when summer rolled around, she could _destroy him_.

    And at his favorite game, no less.

  
    Resolve recovered, Odette swiped the lingering moisture from her cheeks and set her shoulders firmly in place, reaching for the deck of cards with a scowl. Maybe she _would_ marry him. But she would make darn sure that he knew who was in charge first. She drew her hand. Four aces and a Queen. A slow grin crawled across her face. It was certainly a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whaaat? Two chapters in one day? The world must be ending! I know I've been really absent, and I have a whole scrapbook of really clever excuses, but honestly it really has just been down to Chapter 3 of this story being a pain in the butt to write. This chapter has been written since this story was conceived, so I'm pretty stoked to have it up. I will be trying to update this one more, and I have two Star Wars fics coming up sometime either later today or Wednesday. These two are a bit short, so I might do a few more before the week is out. Hope you guys are keeping well and thanks for reading!  
> -Chips


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